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| Kelly |
Life Goes On
In the foothills of the Adirondacks, there is a lush
glade embraced by the arms of surrounding mountains.
And in that glade is an abandoned house, the front door
hanging by a single rusty hinge, its remaining shards
of window glass aflame with the burgeoning sunrise,
where a lone spider casts her threads into the light.
The house sits alone as it has for decades, listening
to the music of wind and leaves, watching the seasons
come and go. Some might think that because man has
left, this place has lost its wonder, but they would be
wrong. Today, morning fog will rise up from the bed
of rich soil like smoke from a campfire. The stars will
still be visible, showing hints of heaven in the partially
dark sky. Later, the mist will spread aloft, as the sunrise
burns it away, and dim rays will illuminate gray rocks
bearded with moss. The stream, gently tousled by a
breeze, will launch ripples across the surface, leaving
a snoring silver carp undisturbed at the river bottom.
And nearby, there is a crack in the sidewalk, uplifted
by the spreading root of a river oak. Gradually, the
heavy cement will yield to other roots, producing more
cracks and opportunities for growth. And then, fragile
tendrils will unfurl one lime-green leaf at a time,
painting new life over the gray canvas of old concrete.
© William Ogden Haynes
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| William Ogden Haynes |
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